


Death and the Rose

by RedThreads



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, I wrote it for Halloween, Mention of Past Domestic Violence, and I could not get this idea out of my head, but it's good for any time, hope you agree!, mention of world violence, this was inspired by a picture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 15:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedThreads/pseuds/RedThreads
Summary: A rooftop chat between unlikely friends. Rose Tyler wants to make sure that her friend, who is the only one doing his very stressful job, is doing okay. He enjoys her company more than someone like him should.





	Death and the Rose

A young woman sat on the concrete bunkers that rose periodically on the roof of the council estate where she lived with her mum, and stared off across the skyline of her piece of London. It had been a long, long day and she wanted a bit of peace before going back in to listen to her mum go on about whatever piece of gossip Betty down the hall had today. So she sat in the cold October air, on a moonless night, and pretended that she could see the stars. That the security light that nearly washed out her retail-worker-pale skin was actually the moon.

The young woman sighed and tucked a strand of honey colored hair behind her ear before taking another drag from her cigarette. She wrapped her free arm around her torso and snuggled into her ancient red hoodie as an even cooler breeze touched the already crisp night air. A small smile was tugging at her lips before she heard the voice she knew accompanied the cold wind.

“Smokin’ will kill you, ya know,” a deep voice with a clear Northern accent murmured behind her. Rose tilted her head back and grinned, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she stared up at the tall, lean figure cloaked in black and shadows who appeared behind her. He took another step forward and a shaft of false moonlight fell over the planes and angles of his skull, bringing the ivory of the bone and dark pits where eyes might be into stark relief.

“You’d know better than anyone else,” Rose shot back, affection making her voice almost husky. Hearing it, she blushed and looked forward once more, taking another drag from her cigarette. Now that he had announced his presence, she heard the click of bones, subtle and almost dignified, as he moved to sit beside her, his black robe falling away to reveal dark work trousers and sturdy boots.

“That I would, and I thought you were invested in sticking around a little longer. That’s what I remember at least. Are those yours too, Rose Tyler?” Death said, his tone turning disapproving as he pointed a still skeletal hand at a small pile of brown and clear bottles that had obviously held cheap alcohol before being emptied.

Rose glanced over, her eyes catching on the ridge of his cheekbone below his eye socket. She knew those dark pits weren’t actually empty, instead they were endless. When one stared directly into the eyes of Death, you saw universes, multitudes, all of time colliding in a small, but infinite space. It was intoxicating. At least to her. He had told her his eyes rendered most mortals motionless puddles of incomprehensible terror, which is why he tried not to make eye contact with many, but she had been breathless with wonder. “No, those aren’t mine. I suspect Larry and the boys had a few last night, or one of the many other possible people in this building who didn’t want to get caught drinking. And I figured if I lit one up, you might show,” she told him, trying to keep her voice matter of fact.

Death shot her a quick look before facing the skyline once more. He pulled on a pair of black leather gloves that covered his skeletal hands past the wrist, and pushed back his hood. Instantly, he appeared to be human, with close cropped brown hair, aquiline nose and ears a bit too large, and the angles and places of his skull covered firmly in pale skin. Crystal blue eyes that seemed to see right through her to her soul replaced the swirl of vortex, but were no less breathtaking. The robe was replaced with a battered leather bomber jacket and a dark maroon jumper. “Why did you want me to show?” he asked quietly, the burr of his Northern accent making the words a near rumble.

“You don’t have to use the glamour with me, you know,” Rose skirted around his question, her eyes running over his changed form. Still long and lean, still… fascinating. It wasn’t that she minded when he took human form, although it made it even harder to remember she couldn’t touch him, it just bothered her that maybe he thought she was scared of what he really looked like.

“I know…” he sounded almost embarrassed, which Rose found hard to believe, “but it’ll be easier for you to explain sitting with a human than with a classic illustration of one of Mankind’s greatest fear come to fruition if anyone wanders by. Although maybe not with this daft old face,” he said with a grimace, one gloved hand reaching up to flick the lobe of his left ear.

“It’s not daft, it’s... dear!” Rose protested, changing the description at the last moment. She stared hard at him, as if she were trying to peer at his soul like he did with her. “I just want to make sure you are comfortable with me. In any form,” she finished, looking down at the ground. She went to take a drag of the cigarette, but he made a small sound, and she smudged it out on the concrete next to her instead, her hair falling forward once more, acting almost as a shield.

“I am comfortable with you. More than I should be, probably,” Death murmured the last bit as he reached up with one gloved finger to push her hair back behind her ear. He had learned long ago that when covered in leather, his touch didn’t send the recipient to their mortal coil. He had found himself wearing leather more in the two years since he had met Rose Tyler than in the six millennia before. He chose not to question why. “You’re the one who should be fleeing in terror or refusing to believe I’m real,” he countered.

Rose rolled her eyes at him. “Please, even when you had legitimately come for me, did I do either of those things?”

“No you did not,” Death nodded, each word distinct. 

This human, this woman was an anomaly. He had first come to know of her essence on a blindingly dull early morning two years before. Her boyfriend, Jimmy Stone, had gotten completely wasted and was furious at negative review of his band. Jimmy taken it out on Rose, beating her tremendously before throwing her down the stairs of their flat. Death arrived and as he reached out his hand to take her rather brilliantly glowing soul with him to the next world, she had met his eyes without flinching. “Don’t let him get away with this,” she whispered, clinging to the last bit of her life with a willpower that had been stunning.

Instead of ignoring her plea, he stopped and stared at her a moment longer. She did not flinch, she did not beg, instead her gaze demanded his promise, while simultaneously filling with awe at the sight of him. Awe, not fear. “Why don’t you make sure instead,” Death had finally said, and twisted the golden line of her soul back towards her body.

It was not unheard of for Death to spare someone. However, it wasn’t often that he checked up on those souls. Never had those visits been welcomed, not truly. Until Rose. He’d had to stop her from hugging him the first time he had reappeared to her. He hadn’t meant to be seen, but she had sensed him somehow, and nearly flung herself into the afterlife with a hug which he had quickly blocked. It was then that he learned she had kept the promise she had tried to get him to make. She was in the middle of a court battle with her ex, having gone to the police to report what he had done to her once she was out of the hospital. Rose had told him that it was really, really hard, that the defense attorney was hammering on her, trying to make it seem like her fault. Her will had been faltering, but the sight of him, of Death Itself, gave her strength again. She thanked him for giving her another chance, had asked if he’d like to stick around. 

“You asked me if I liked chips,” Death said out loud, his human lips pulling up in a wry smile that would have been impossible to see in his true form.

“Course I did! Wanted ta thank you, you changed my life! After letting me keep it,” Rose burst out, bumping her shoulder into his playfully, careful to only touch leather. It was a conversation they’d had many times, and she’d long gotten over being embarrassed over offering Death chips. They were the perfect thank you gift in her mind, and it wasn’t like she had a lot of cash to spare. Besides, what did one get an immortal being who literally had the power over life and death? Turns out chips and an occasional visit where the human didn’t fall into tears or get rendered speechless by the mere sight of him was the perfect gift. Since that day there had been many visits, and Rose wasn’t sure who enjoyed them more, the spectre of Death who didn’t need to hide, or the human who didn’t need to change some aspect of herself to please the person she was with.

“So why did you hope I’d come tonight, Rose?” Death asked again softly. He wanted to brush back another errant strand of her hair, so he clasped his hands in front of him instead.

“Been rough out there lately, yeah? I know you have your Shadow Spectres, but…” Rose trailed off, not sure of how she should continue. He’d told her that once there had been many Reapers to collect souls, but they had been destroyed in a cosmic battle of their own making, and now he was the only one left. Too many things died for a personal visit, so he had created Shadow Spectres to escort those to the portal of the afterlife, but he was still alone, still the only one who could help the souls through the portal. Each soul had a different need, a different effect on him, and those who had died violently he felt the most. It was a burden once shared that was now all his.

“Are you scared, Rose?” Death asked, surprised at her trailing off. It wasn’t like her to be indirect. “Do you want some guarantee that you won’t die by some fool with poisoned ideology?” He stiffened slightly at the thought, as much as he knew she must end in this form eventually, and a large part of him dreaded that moment, he hadn’t ever expected her to make a request like this.

“No! I mean, yeah, it’d be great not to worry about terror attacks, but I’d want that for the whole city, for the world. Ugh, I’m buggering this up,” Rose buried her head in her hands for a moment and took a deep breath before looking back over at him. “I was asking if you were okay. There’s been so much awful shit, so many violent deaths lately, I just wanted to make sure you… it was stupid, but I was worried about you, okay? You said you were alone now, you were the only one,” she rushed out, before biting her lip and looking down at the filthy concrete, tears threatening at the corner of her eyes. So, so stupid, like someone at great and powerful as he was would ever want or care that a pitiful shop girl from the council estate was worried about him…

Leather clad fingers touched the back of her hand, gently at first, and then with a little more pressure to pry her grip off the edge of bunker, so he could curl his hand around hers, holding securely. “I was alone during the world wars, Rose Tyler, during genocides that you didn’t learn about in school because human governments don’t want to acknowledge their actions… or lack thereof,” Death murmured softly, staring down at her pale fingers intertwined with his.

“Yeah, s’true. So this isn’t… you’re fine then, yeah?” Rose said, her voice a little thicker as she quickly brushed away the possibility of tears with sleeve of her hoodie on her free hand. “Figured, just wanted to make sure…”

“Rose.” The quiet voice asked that she look at him and she did, expecting to see indulgence or perhaps indifference. Instead she saw only his beautiful smile and eyes that swirled with countless stars even in this form. “I was alone during those times. I’m not anymore, am I?”

Rose grinned, her whole face lighting up as the tip of her tongue was caught between her teeth. “No, you’re not. You’ve got me,” she said cheerfully. Taking a chance, she lay her head against his shoulder, grateful now for the glamour that let her touch him even this much. Here was the peace she had been seeking this night, next to Death, her hand in his.

They sat like that for awhile, talking of small things and great things as they usually did, while the sky grew darker and then began to lighten. He felt her grow tired, but she continued to hold on to his hand, her head on his shoulder, almost snuggling closer at times. “D’ya think…” Rose murmured, nearly asleep, but reluctant to end the visit, “D’ya think it would ever be possible for a human soul to… change. I know nothing can be another you, be another Death, but could one… stay. With you?” If she hadn’t been so tired, she never would have been so bold as to ask.

“Like a companion?” Death asked, surprised once more, as he frequently was with this human. Was she saying she wanted to stay with him? Forever?

“Yeah, s’a good word for it. You shouldn’t be on your own, and you got me… if you want.”

“I… don’t know. But I think it bears looking into,” Death said quietly, his fingers tightening for just a moment around Rose’s.

“Good,” she said, and they watched the sun begin to rise together.


End file.
